A Long-Awaited Beginning
by AndAllThatMishigas
Summary: Polgara and Durnik's wedding night, taking place immediately at the end of The Belgariad. Dedicated to Rahleeyah who introduced me to these amazing books and encouraged me to love and adore this beautiful characters.


**A Long-Awaited Beginning**

Long after the festivities of Garion's wedding had ended, when the guests had all had their fill of dancing and imbibing, two newlyweds sat in a comfortable silence in a cozy apartment of the Rivan Stronghold.

Lady Polgara sat at her vanity table, holding the beautiful rose in her hands. It was so delicate yet possessed such indescribable strength. Her fingertips traced the soft petals. And the closer she regarded her beautiful flower and contemplated its creation, the more her heart swelled, forming a lump in her throat.

Durnik's words echoed though her mind. "I know you like beautiful things." There had been a moment where she considered bristling at that statement, the idea that the man she loved—her husband now—could make such a simplistic statement. As though all he seemed to know of her was her appreciation of beauty. But Polgara knew differently, of course. She knew Durnik better than that. For this goodly Sendar who so faithfully held her heart was no poet and no lofty proclaimer of grand romanticism. This flower she held in her hands meant so much more than the simple words her Durnik had used to describe it. This steel-forged rose made colorful and fragrant by sorcery meant everything in the world to her.

"It's the most beautiful thing I've ever seen," she murmured quietly.

Durnik's kindly face blushed pink as he watched her from his own seat beside the fireplace. "I don't know about that," he replied with his usual modesty. "It was the best that I could do."

"But that is why it is all the more beautiful to me," she explained. "That you created something with your own hands and the power of your own mind just for me..." Polgara was rarely at a loss for words, having had thousands of years to find the exact words she needed. She held the rose in one hand and reached her other out to him. "Thank you, my Durnik," she concluded softly, lest she lose sight of those all-important words.

"And I am yours," he told her reverently. He left his chair and came to kneel down beside her to take her hand in both of his. "I have been yours for many years, as much as I could be. For even when I knew you only as the kitchen mistress at Faldor's farm, I knew you to be the best of women."

She smiled affectionately at him. "And that is why you are the best of men. All my life I have been respected and revered as Polgara the Sorcress, or else coveted as a mere woman with an attractive figure. You have never revered nor coveted me."

A look of confusion and mild panic crossed Durnik's face. "But I..."

Polgara would not allow him to contradict her. "No, what I mean is that my name or title or ability or power never altered your regard. You have respected and defended me, as I am, always."

"I know no other way to love you, my Pol."

Tears flooded her eyes at his simple yet powerful words. She blinked rapidly, not wishing to spend her wedding night weeping. But he had used such an endearment before, and only now did it strike at her heart. He called her 'my Pol.' She felt not one ounce of contempt for being referred to as a possession, unlike her time with the Nardaks or every encounter with a Grolim who called her 'my Queen' or when Torak had sought to claim her as 'my bride.' Belonging to Durnik was a happy sort of belonging. For through his goodness and his unwavering quiet strength and his unquestioning kindness, Durnik had claimed her heart, and she gave him all of herself freely and unreservedly.

A single tear escaped down her cheek. Durnik did not hesitate to reach up and wipe it away with his thumb. "Do not cry."

She gave him a watery smile. "I love you so very much. And I am overjoyed to be your wife."

His mouth opened to respond, but he quickly closed it with a rueful sort of shake of his head.

"What is it, Durnik?" she asked.

"I nearly said that I felt blessed by the Gods to be your husband. But that's exactly what happened."

Polgara gave a small chuckle. "Yes, it is." She placed her rose on the vanity table and leaned in, gently touching her fingers to his cheek. Their lips touched softly. Polgara pulled away with a slight gasp.

"What is it? Is something wrong?" he asked with immediate concern.

"No, not at all, but..."

Durnik did not ask her again. He waited quietly, still kneeling before her and holding her hand.

Polgara suddenly felt the burden of her vulnerability, the part of herself that had been buried so long, it was nearly forgotten. "I am not well-practiced here. I have been living in this world for thousands of years and experienced nearly all the world has to offer. But it has been almost longer than memory since any man has loved me and since I have loved anyone romantically. And you, my Durnik, I have no experience with anyone like you."

He frowned, unsure of what she meant. But Durnik wisely knew that her precise meaning did not quite matter in this moment. He told her, "I have laid with women before." His blush was quite endearing. But he continued, "I was young and foolish long ago. Perhaps not a thousand years ago, but long before we met. But you are no mere woman, Pol, you are my wife. I love you beyond all others. Whatever you need of me, I wish to provide. I will go back to my own room if you prefer."

"It is our wedding night." She did not spell out what the wedding night was for, as they both knew very well. His offer was selfless, though it did not ease her nerves.

"Your comfort and happiness is all that matters to me."

She took his face in her hands and caressed his cheeks. "You are a dear man. And my greatest happiness shall come from being your wife in all manners. I want us to be comfortable together as we begin our marriage."

"I am yours," he breathed, gazing at her with awe and with love.

"And I am yours. Take me to bed and make me yours, Durnik."

As he looked upon his wife's face, Durnik felt his heart leap within his chest. Her words, in that soft tone from her usually commanding voice, had inspired a fire within him. It wasn't fair, he realized, that he should be so limited. That he should have the mind of a simple man, lacking the vocabulary and verbosity to truly express to her all that was in his heart. To be granted a second life was one thing—a gift and blessing beyond any other—but to be able to spend this second life with Polgara as his wife…it was much more than he could possibly convey.

Durnik knew his own limitations in such things. He knew that he could not offer her a poet's words to charm her, could not offer her a king's riches to buy her anything she could ever want, could not offer her power to bend the world to her will. No, all of that she already possessed in herself. All Durnik had for his wife, the best of all women, was to continue to care for her and protect her with whatever he had. It was not much, but she had chosen him. Whatever he had, it was enough for her. And that truth cried out from his within his heart and soul.

With no more words to say, Durnik rested one hand upon her knee where she sat and let the other caress her cheek. This time when they leaned in to share a kiss, Polgara did not pull back. She did not gasp in surprise. She did not allow her nervousness to cause her reticence. Durnik could feel a change in her kiss. Her lips, so beautifully pillowed against his, moved in a manner that intoxicated him. If he did not know better, he might imagine sorcery had made him tremble from the inside out. He knew of sorcery now. And he knew that the power in their shared kiss was not of sorcery or any other mystical force; this power was far greater than any other, for this power was that of true love.

A small whimper muffled against Durnik's mouth as the tip of his tongue traced Polgara's perfect lips. She opened her mouth and groaned with heady desire as his tongue surged in, deepening their kiss. Polgara's hands rested on his shoulders and tightened to pull him closer to her.

Unfortunately, her eagerness caught him off balance. He stumbled slightly on his knees, breaking them apart. "Oh, I'm sorry," she apologized breathlessly, blushing ever so slightly.

"Don't be," he replied. Durnik stood from his place at her feet and offered her his hand. "I think you asked me to take you to bed, darling wife."

She took his hand to stand and smiled the most dazzling smile he had ever seen. "Yes, darling husband, I did."

Durnik pulled her into his embrace. His arms wrapped around her slender waist and his large smith's hands covered the expanse of her back. "And you know I'll do anything you ask." There was a teasing tone to his voice that Durnik himself did not quite recognize. Perhaps this pounding of his heart and lightness of his head brought on by the increasingly real prospect of making love to the best of women had created within him a flirtatious giddiness with which he was unfamiliar. Whatever it was, it made Polgara smile. And if Polgara smiled, nothing in the entire universe could go wrong.

As she smiled at her husband, Polgara wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him down to kiss her again. His embrace tightened as he pulled her flush against his body. She buried her hands in his soft brown hair, anchoring him to their kiss. All she wanted in that moment was to be as close to him as physically possible, to have their two forms cease to exist and join together as they had already joined their hearts. Despite this fervent desire, Polgara pulled back to look into his eyes. Those kind eyes that inspired her trust from the very first, those entrancing eyes that seemed to hold her sway like nothing else. "My Durnik," she murmured.

He brushed her hair from her beautiful face and murmured back, "My Pol." He pressed kisses to the corners of her lips, to the tip of her nose, each of her eyelids, all over each of her cheeks, and down the pale column of her neck. Polgara held him close to her and hummed happily as she appreciated the affection he lavished upon her.

"Durnik," she purred, getting his attention.

Immediately, he redirected his focus back to her, prizing his lips from her skin. "Yes?"

"I want to feel you."

A shiver passed through him. She wanted him. Somehow, she wanted him. It seemed far too much to ever believe to be real. And yet here they were. Durnik took a step back from her to pull his tunic over his head. As his bare chest was revealed to her, Polgara's eyes darkened with desire. A strange swell of pride filled him as he saw the evidence of his wife's approval of his form. He reached out a gentle hand to the tie on her bodice. "May I?" he asked, for in truth, his need to see her and touch her and be with her was getting near to overwhelming him completely.

Polgara nodded, allowing him to pull the lace out of its intricate knot and loosen the ties that kept her clothing in place. As he set about his task, she loosened her skirts, letting all the elegant layers fall to pool at her feet. Durnik gently pushed the bodice off her shoulders to join the skirts on the floor. When she was left only in her thin linen slip, he offered his hand for her to step away from her discarded clothing. He continued to lead her until they were standing beside the bed.

It was Polgara who wanted to explore now. She rested her palms on the muscles of his chest. His heart was thundering beneath her touch. It was a comfort to know that he was perhaps as nervous as she, despite the calm exterior he portrayed now as always. But she knew that he was not afraid, for he could never fear her or fear what they would do together in their marriage. He was as certain as she about their union. Nevertheless, their wedding night was a momentous occasion for them both, a dream come real that neither had ever truly believed until it had happened. Disbelief and gratitude both swirled within them and between them. For this was only their beginning.

Durnik watched her hands against his skin. Her fingers were long and thin and nimble from her many years sewing and embroidering. She had elegant hands. Durnik had noticed that before. In fact, it was one of the first things he had noticed about her, those many years ago when he came to realize that Mistress Pol was no ordinary woman. She worked in the kitchens, yet her hand never bore evidence of cuts or burns like the other kitchen workers. Her hands were soft, not dry or cracked from scrubbing pots. It had always struck him as unusual that a woman who worked so hard for so long should have such beautiful hands.

But now those hands touched him with a wondrous sense of awe. Her eyes raked over his bare chest. Her hands traced lines of muscle, feeling the soft scratch of the coarse hair that lightly covered him. "So strong," she murmured. Durnik only smiled.

Polgara marveled at this man before her. It had been so very long since she had allowed any trace of lust to invade her. Even now, after working to rid herself of those protective habits before their wedding, she still had to remind herself that this was good, that she was allowed to want him, that her desire would not be foolish or dangerous. Not anymore.

It had come gradually, her love for him. By the time Polgara had even considered it, Durnik had already claimed her heart. From the first, she had known he was a good man. A steady Sendar blacksmith who took good care of Garion, who respected her rules for him and kept him safe and occupied and out of trouble while never overstepping. And when he insisted on joining their quest, she was glad to have him. A sturdy, unflappable presence to calm her when Garion's youth and her father's stubbornness threatened to frustrate her to death. Durnik was always there for her to rely on when she needed him. And the more she relied on him, the more she felt the protective walls around her heart crack and allow him inside her very soul. And when he was struck down dead, she finally realized the full brunt of her love for him, a love she had convinced herself she could not have. She had wept uncontrollably over his body, a body she could now gaze upon, a body that lived once more.

Polgara pressed a soft kiss to his chest, just over his beating heart. There was the faintest hint of a mark there, evidence of the sorcery Garion and the Orb had performed to bring him back to her. Durnik gasped at her touch, and that beautiful living heart pounded. Emboldened, Polgara let her arms slip around his waist to wander the solid muscle of his back and bring her body closer to him. Her kisses on his chest grew more ardent. Her teeth grazed over him and her lips sucked marks onto his skin that she soothed with a flick of her tongue.

So lost was she in her own acts upon him that it took her a moment to realize that her husband was stiff and still in her embrace. She paused and tilted her head up to look at him. He was breathing quite heavily, and his eyes were closed, whether to focus on her touch or to control himself, she was not sure.

"Durnik," she whispered, softly kissing his throat. "You may touch me. I am your wife," she reminded him. "And I want to feel you." To illustrate her point, Polgara pressed her whole body flush against his and let her tongue dart out onto the delicate skin of his neck. She felt his hardness twitch against her hip, making her smile and shiver in anticipation.

At her invitation, Durnik raised his trembling hands and placed them gently on her waist. She let out a small sound of happiness to encourage him further. He mapped out every line of her body with only her slip to separate skin from skin. Polgara reached up to his face to pull him down to kiss her again. Durnik's lips and tongue moved against hers as his hands moved over her body. He could feel her warmth. He could feel the expanse of her back as his palms slid down her spine and down the generous curve of her bum. He could not resist massaging and squeezing the gloriously firm flesh within his grasp. Polgara groaned into his mouth with desire. Her fingernails scratched his scalp, a sensation he enjoyed more than he might have imagined. His hands traced over her shapely waist and up her slim waist to the ample swell of her bosom. Durnik shifted to kiss down her pale, perfect neck. She clung to him, breathing heavily. The heavy weight of her breasts settled in his large hands, large enough to hold and caress such softness. A little whimper escaped her as his thumbs brushed over her hardening nipples.

Durnik felt her eager fingers searching for the tie on his trousers and he stepped away from her, grabbing her wrists to halt her progress. "Come here," he beckoned.

Polgara let him seat her on the bed. He leaned down, his hands on either side of her legs, supporting his weight, and lightly kissed her lips. He pulled away again, but his hands trailed down her thighs and lifting one leg up to remove her shoe. He repeated the action on the other and dropped a kiss to her ankle. His fingers caught the hem of her slip, and he looked at her again for permission. Polgara said nothing, only smiled slightly and stood up to allow him to pull the slip off over her head.

When she was completely bare to her husband, Polgara lay back on the bed and raised her arms up over her head. She was very aware of what she looked like. And she wanted Durnik to see her and gaze upon her naked body. But she did not want to watch him; it would make him too nervous to feel as though he had an audience when he first saw her.

For a moment, Durnik was stunned. He knew already that Polgara was a great beauty. He knew already that she was by far the most beautiful woman in all the world; he was not alone in that opinion, for it was widely understood by all. But to see her this way—without any artifice, without any adornment, without anything except her natural body as it was—was nothing short of breathtaking. But he did not stay still in his amazement for too long. After all, she had told him twice now that she wanted to feel him. And more desperately than his next breath, he wanted to feel her.

Polgara felt the shift of weight on the bed as Durnik lay beside her. He softly kissed the corner of her mouth and ran his fingertips down her body, starting at her arm high above her head, down her shoulder and breast and waist and hip and thigh. She inhaled sharply at his gentle touch, overwhelmed by the quiet intimacy of it.

Durnik wished he had a way to tell her what seeing her like this made him feel. She seemed happy to have him here with her. She seemed to have no more reticence in giving herself to him. But he wanted to know what she thought, what she felt, if it was anything like the wonderment and love and lust he felt for her now. He had no words to describe his own feelings, nor did he have the eloquence to properly inquire as to hers. All he could do was leave a line of kisses down her jaw and neck.

As his attentions moved across her body, lips and tongue caressing every inch of her skin, Polgara began to feel something altogether unfamiliar. After a near-eternity of life, there were very few things that were unfamiliar to the sorceress. The precise things Durnik was doing were things she had experienced. But never before had it felt like this. Never before had a warmth and a comfort fallen over her even as electric excitement sparked through her veins, ignited by each and every touch. Polgara felt so good. Better than good. She felt free and alive and, above all, she felt loved. A breathy moan escaped her lips.

At the sound, Durnik paused, glancing up at her face to ensure she was enjoying. He certainly was. Her eyes sparkled as she watched him, and the serene smile on her face let him know to continue. His tongue learned the shape of her collarbone. He was memorizing the taste of her skin, the slight change in flavor as her body heated with arousal. And he could tell she was growing more and more aroused, as was he.

He had one hand cradling her head with fingers tangled in her dark, luscious hair. His other hand remained gently holding her hip, anchoring himself to her. His lips mapped out the pale skin of her chest, noticing how she was growing more and more flushed. That beautiful pink hue that spread over her skin. As Durnik moved his kisses lower, he could see the way her dusky nipples hardened, clamoring for his touch. He was tentative at first, wanting to control himself and needing to take the time to learn what would most please her. He started out with a line of soft kisses around the curve of her full breast. His tongue swathed across the underside of her breast, and Polgara arched her back and gasped in response. A jolt went directly to his groin. Durnik repeated the action, receiving an erotic moan in response. He continued with his open-mouthed kisses over her breast before his lips closed over her, his tongue flicking her nipple a few times before he lightly sucked on it.

Polgara's hands flew from where they rested above her head, tightly gripping Durnik's hair in her fists. She was practically panting now, just from these few simple yet stunningly arousing acts. Her whole body was tingling, radiating out from where he touched her. And too soon, he lifted his head away from her. But before she could whine in protest, Durnik shifted himself on the bed and licked the salty sheen forming in the valley between her breasts. And before she knew it, he had moved his attention to her other breast. Polgara became aware that she was moaning his name, and the louder she begged him not to stop, the harder he sucked on her skin.

Durnik realized what he was doing, realized that he was losing control and going too far. He ripped himself away from her, breathing heavily. The hardness in his trousers was growing almost painful, but he ignored it while he fought to regain his restraint.

Suddenly feeling the loss of him, Polgara turned her head to watch him. His face was clouded over. "What's wrong?" she asked, reaching her hand out toward him, lightly trailing her fingertips down the thick muscles of his arm.

His eyes were transfixed on her breasts, but there was no unbridled lust in that look. Not anymore. He frowned. "I…I marked you."

Polgara looked down to see the red-purple welts appearing over her skin. A small smile curled over her lips, and she looked back at him. "I don't mind."

Durnik's eyes darted to hers. "I shouldn't have…"

"Yes you should," she interrupted. "This is our wedding night. And I am yours. And I think I'll like to feel you on my skin when we awaken tomorrow." Polgara moved her hand to lightly scratch his arm with her fingernails. "If it bothers you, I can get rid of them. But I promise, Durnik, I do not mind being marked by you, by your passion."

He was on her again in an instant, this time he had climbed on top of her, his knees supporting him on either side of her thighs near the edge of the bed, and his arms beside her ears to keep his weight off her. "My passion is for you," he breathed before pressing his lips to hers sensuously.

Polgara moaned into his mouth, gripping his shoulders and wrapping her arms around his neck and tangling her fingers in his hair and caressing his cheeks in her palms. She couldn't seem to keep herself still. The fire of his kiss, the taste of his tongue, the movement of his lips, all ignited her long-buried passion.

When he was sufficiently convinced of her enthusiasm to continue, Durnik continued his exploration of her body. He kissed along the other side of her neck this time. He moved his body down so he could reach more of her skin. One of his favorite places in the whole world, Durnik had decided, was right in the center of her chest. The taste of her skin with her soft breasts pressed on either side of his face was paradise. Her voice calling his name with breathy sighs spurred him onward. For she was his wife, and this was only their first night together. Durnik had been brought back to life by the Gods in order to let him revisit the glory of Polgara again and again and again.

Durnik kneeled between her legs. His hands gripped her hips as he rained wet kisses on her belly. The way the slight roundness of her twitched and fluttered under his touch was fascinating. He thought perhaps another time, another night—or even another day, should the mood arise—he might hold himself right here, hugging her tight and keeping his face lovingly pressed to her stomach. But he could not linger now, for as he moved down her body further an incredible scent filled his inhaling breath. His entire body shivered to imagine Polgara's arousal, to think that his efforts, his touch, his exploration of her, had inspired such a need and desire in her.

He bowed his head but paused. Polgara spread her legs further as he settled between her thighs. His rasping breath rippled through her dark curls, making her squirm with anticipation. "Durnik," she moaned and begged. "Please."

Lying on his stomach, Durnik lifted her thighs into his arms. She was so soft, he couldn't resist nipping her fleshy inner thigh with his teeth. Polgara gasped in pleasure. Durnik then dragged his tongue up her leg right to her center before he buried his face there. She was so wet already, he could not resist a groan, nearly a growl, of desire. His lips sucked gently on her folds as his tongue learned the shape of her. Her taste was sweet and exotic and intensely intimate. He flicked his tongue against her, and Polgara let out a low whine.

Her mind was reeling with the onslaught of erotic sensations he created in her. Every part of her tingled as Durnik's mouth coaxed her higher and higher, building the tension deep in her core. One of her hands fisted in the bedsheets, desperate for some purchase. Her other hand moved unconsciously to her breast, kneading her own flesh and squeezing her hardened nipple. She was so close, bucking her hips against his face, seeking more and more friction and guiding his mouth to the spots where she needed him most. His fingers dug into the flesh of her hips, surely enough to leave bruises, but all Polgara could feel was ardent passion and added stimulation to every single part of her body.

She shattered before she even realized. Her back arched up off the bed as a visceral cry came from the back of her throat. Durnik groaned against her when her legs clenched around his ears, the vibration of his voice coaxing her climax. His tongue lapped up the rush of wetness that flooded her. Polgara could barely breathe as her body trembled and her eyes saw stars from the force of her orgasm.

Durnik eased up as she fell back, lying limp and boneless and panting heavily. He hadn't realized how tight his hold on her had been until he loosened his grip and felt his fingers stiff from the exertion. Slowly, Durnik unhanded her and left a trail of tiny kisses back up her stomach and to that place he adored between her breasts. Polgara was practically unconscious as her body recovered. Durnik watched her for a moment, utterly in awe of her. For so many years, he had watched her from afar. Never in his wildest dreams did he ever imagine he would have the opportunity to love her this way, to bring her such pleasure. It had not even been a fantasy he'd allowed himself; it felt disrespectful, even in the privacy of his own mind, to regard Mistress Pol in such a manner. She was exquisitely beautiful, yes. She possessed a sensual power, yes. She inspired admiration and wonder, yes. But she was also strong and mysterious and brilliant and practical and hard-working and decent. The ancientness of her made her loftier than mere mortal pleasures. Though Durnik had not always known that about her. To him, she was always just a woman. The best of women, of course, but still just a woman. And finally, after a chaste, quiet, unspoken love that neither of them had ever dared believe possible, they could explore their mortal pleasures in a way that, to his mind, felt utterly transcendent. But the taste of her still moist on his face and the echoes of her moaning cries in his ears proved that they had indeed found such mortal pleasures in their reality.

After a moment, Durnik got up from the bed. He removed his shoes and trousers, making himself as bare as she. As gently as he could, he lifted his wife into his arms and held her close to his chest as he pulled the bedsheets down and placed her back into the bed just as gently. He got in beside her and pulled the covers over them. She was slick with her cooling sweat, and he didn't want her to catch a chill. It was a bit of a chore, keeping himself under control as he waited for her to recover. He could wait. He would wait. Even if she fell into a deep sleep now, he would wait. Her pleasure and her comfort were all that mattered to him. His own release paled in comparison to the importance of her enjoyment. After all, how could he possibly enjoy himself if Polgara were not pleased? And so, Durnik placed one hand on the rise of her stomach—for he could not keep himself from touching her—and rubbed small comforting circles. His other hand tangled in her silky dark hair, careful to avoid the white streak that seemed to hold her sorceress power in a way he did not understand. He placed light kisses to her cheek and the tip of her nose and the corner of her mouth and the top of her eyebrow.

Polgara could feel what he was doing, though it all felt so very far away. Her body still pulsed with aftershocks of pleasure. But she was slowly returning to consciousness. She smiled to feel his gentle kisses and the loving caress of his big blacksmith hand. It inspired her own hand to wander a bit, stretching out only a few inches before coming into contact with his warm body. Her knuckles trailed lazily over his belly which, despite his bulky appearance, was solid muscle covered in soft flesh and a dusting of coarse hairs. He was such a strong man, her husband. Strong in body and spirit and heart. And it was his softness that added to that strength. He may not have been a great warrior or great king—and Polgara would not have wanted him if he were—but Durnik was the greatest protector Polgara had ever known. And she protected him in return. He had given his life for her, because he loved her so much. That love had saved the entire world, she knew. Garion had known what would protect her from Torak, but it was Durnik who saved them all. Durnik, who she loved so much she could cause the great God Torak to falter. She loved him, her Durnik. She loved him more than words could ever express. And because he was her Durnik, no words were needed.

Her hand trialed a bit further, finally finding what she was looking for. His erection was hard as solid rock, and it twitched when touched by her fingers. Polgara smiled and curled her hand around it. Durnik had been about to kiss her cheek when he gasped slightly from her sudden grip.

"Durnik, my Durnik," she hummed, stroking him firmly but slowly.

He let out a shuddering breath. "My Pol," he murmured.

"For a man of so few words, you have an extremely talented tongue," she teased, squeezing him lightly as she did.

Durnik's chuckle turned to a groan. But he tried to keep focus. "I will use whatever talents I may possess for your happiness."

She turned her head to face him. "I'm the luckiest wife who ever lived, to have a husband who cares for me so."

His hand on her stomach moved to her hip and pulled her body onto her side so she was completely angled toward him. "I am a husband who loves his wife very much," he told her before leaning in to kiss her again.

Polgara lost her grip for a moment when he turned her, but she found her way again. Her hand stroked him in rhythm with their kiss. She could taste herself on him, and she was getting aroused again, though she wasn't sure she'd stopped being aroused since the moment Durnik first kissed her, kneeling at her feet in front of her vanity table. She lifted her leg to curl around his, and his hand moved over her bum, squeezing slightly and pulling her body closer to him. Polgara teased the tip of him against her folds, spreading her wetness.

Durnik pulled out of the kiss, gasping at the sensation. He had to take a few deep breaths to calm himself, lest their lovemaking end too soon. "Oh, my Pol," he groaned. His whole body was tense, right on the edge.

She could sense his struggle, so she let him regain control. He had already attended so diligently and skillfully to her needs, and she did not wish to deny him his own desires. More than anything, she wanted them to enjoy together. For what better way to begin marriage than by coming together in every possible sense?

It took only a few moments for Durnik to settle himself. He was still pressed right at her entrance, though her hand had left his shaft and now was up on the side of his neck and lightly touching the hairs on the back of his head. She dropped a few soft kisses on his chin, waiting for him to choose their pace.

Slowly, almost torturously so, he pressed his hips forward, nudging inside her. His thrusts were shallow, pushing his tip inside her and pulling all the way out before pushing in slightly further each time. Polgara gripped his shoulders tightly, eyes shut and barely breathing. He filled and stretched her in a way she'd never known, never imagined. When at last he was fully sheathed inside her, he stilled. She pulled her leg up over his hip as she adjusted to his considerable size. And when she opened her eyes, she found Durnik watching her with the most loving expression on his face. The calm control he displayed, the unhidden affection radiating from his every pore, the devotion that palpably pulsated through his body…this was the man she married, this was the man she had been ready to sacrifice everything for, just as he had been willing to sacrifice his life for her. "I love you," she whispered, feeling that those simple words were insufficient.

But Durnik understood, of course. He nodded slightly and replied in a low, breathy voice, "Yes, and I love you." As he leaned in to kiss her, he began to move his hips, moving inside her exquisitely slowly so they could both feel every little bit of each other.

Nothing had ever felt like this for Durnik before. This calm, safe joy of being held within Polgara's perfect body. This thundering of his heart as his entire body felt alight with pleasure as their limbs tangled together. The two of them were truly together in all ways now, flesh woven together with their love. This was excitement and ecstasy, peace and home, the true beginning of their marital union.

On and on Durnik moved, each thrust being met by Polgara's own hips gyrating against him. They were bathed in sweat, panting and moaning into each other's mouths. He could feel her body begin to flutter around his, and his control was beginning to wane. Durnik used his remaining strength to roll their bodies, all while still nestled inside her. Polgara was flipped onto her back, where she wasted no time in wrapping her long legs around his waist and urging him deeper. Her elegant hands caressed his cheeks and moved down his neck and shoulders and arms until she found his hands and laced his fingers with hers. He began to move faster and harder, chasing his completion within her body.

This time, Polgara was ready for her climax. She felt it build and build as his measured efforts brought him to the precise place inside her that made her toes curl. The tension was about to snap, she knew. High-pitched keening sounds escaped her lips. Her fingers tightened around Durnik's. And just as she shattered, she pulled his hand from hers and placed it on the white streak in her hair.

A wave of pleasure crashed over Durnik the moment she put his hand on her hair. He knew instinctively that what he was being given an insight into what she herself was feeling. Her inner walls clenched him hard and her body shuddered, and he could feel it all. He couldn't resist pounding into her fast and coming hard while he was still experiencing her orgasm with her. He spilled inside her with a few more jerking strokes, gasping for air.

Polgara felt Durnik collapse on top of her. His face was buried in her neck and his hand still in her hair. She kept their fingers laced together up above her head and her legs wrapped around his waist. Her free hand traced abstract patterns on his sweat-slick back. They both breathed heavily, unable to speak or move or do anything except remain in their cocoon of that powerful love they'd just shared.

Their bodies had to separate eventually. Durnik did not want to crush her with his body, and he was rapidly going soft inside her. When he did roll off her, they both whimpered at the sudden loss. Durnik lay on his back, still trying to catch is breath. Polgara rolled after him, resting her cheek above his pounding heart and wrapping her arm over his belly. Her legs tangled with his under the sheets that barely covered them now. She wanted to be as close to him as she could be, but she shifted uncomfortably on the wet patch on the bed.

"Are you alright?" he asked immediately, sensing her slight displeasure.

"We've made a bit of a mess," she explained.

Durnik nearly chuckled. His wife's insistence on cleanliness was a very noble trait, and she kept her notions practical; he found her abrupt intrusion on romance to be rather endearing. He was about to ask her if she would like to change the sheets, but another idea flickered in his mind. With a steadying exhale, Durnik gathered his Will the way Belgarath had instructed, and simply said, "Clean."

Polgara felt the whooshing of the Will and the Word, and before she could focus her own mind to unpick precisely what was being done, the damp place on the bed had disappeared. Durnik had cleaned the sheets with his sorcery. In the strangest way, that was the most romantic thing she had ever experienced. She hugged him tightly and kissed his chest. "You are wonderful."

"Just trying to help," he said modestly.

She kissed his skin again and smiled.

Durnik stoked her soft, tangled hair, thinking again about her white streak. "You let me feel you," he thought aloud, still overcome by the wonderment of such a thing.

"Yes," she replied. "I was not sure what would happen, now that you've changed. I think before, it would have just been my hair."

"But it is different now. Because I am different now," he said in understanding.

"Yes," she said again. There was no further explanation she could provide at this moment.

They quieted again. Durnik's fingers lazily trailed up and down Polgara's spine as they both drifted to a comfortable doze. Her body was sated and happy. Her mind was at peace. She gave some distant thought to Durnik's sorcery, his new abilities in this second life. It was simple and elegant, what he had done. Effortless, it seemed. Much quieter than Garion's brash manner. Though Garion had blundered past instruction and found his own way, as he did in so many things. As a young boy, Garion used to reach up for the white streak of her hair, the mark of the Rivan King giving him an insight to her power and his own. Durnik's newfound power seemed to have similar effects. Something for them to explore further together, perhaps. Durnik had been instructed by her father, and she had no doubt he had been a good pupil. She would have to ask him sometime how he had discovered his new gift, what the Old Wolf had said to explain in. But they had a lifetime for such things. For now, she wanted to fall asleep in her husband's arms.

During the night, the light died in the fireplace and the candles all burned out. The room was cloaked in darkness when Durnik awoke. A gap in the curtains let moonlight spill onto the bed. Polgara lay curled up on her side, her dark hair splayed above her on the pillow. She was facing him, but they had moved away from each other during their sleep.

For a moment, he simply watched her. He studied the beauty of her face. The dark fan of her lashes, the tiny lines at the corners of her eyes and the deeper creases around her mouth, the gentle slope of her nose, the full perfection of her lips, the soft paleness of her skin. His eyes drifted down lower to her elegant neck and the somewhat obstructed view of her chest. Lying in this position, her breasts were pressed together, emphasizing their fullness. The marks Durnik had left on her had turned a darker shade of bruise, and he was equally ashamed of marring her flawless skin and proud of seeing the evidence of his efforts.

There was something quite miraculous about this, about waking up in the middle of the night and finding Polgara in bed beside him. It was like waking from a dream, a dream of passionate lovemaking so perfect it couldn't possibly be real, and finding that the dream had come true, that somehow life had become more precious and more wonderful than any dream could ever be.

"Durnik." Her voice was slurred by sleep. Her eyes did not even open, but she could feel him watching her. Polgara blindly reached out toward him. "Sleep, my love."

Obeying her instruction, Durnik settled himself back. He lay on his side to face her and wrapped his arms around her warm body. Her happy sigh tickled the hair on his chest. He felt her toes stroke his calf. Durnik pressed a kiss to her hair and closed his eyes again.

Polgara awoke with the sun. It had been her way nearly all her life, for thousands of years. She rolled onto her back and stretched. Her whole body felt loose and heavy and deliciously sore. And she smiled. She'd never been so happy. Her eyes blinked open in the dawn light streaming into their bedroom and turned her head to look at her husband. A giddy grin spread over Polgara's oft-controlled face. Her husband. They'd been married the day before. And Durnik was now and forever her husband. The thought was the best possible way to begin a new day. It would be how all her days would begin from now on.

She sat up carefully, not wanting to disturb him. The sheet fell away from her naked body. She pushed it down further to reveal Durnik's body to her in the light of day. After all, he had been able to see and explore her on their wedding night, something she was more than happy to allow him to do, but she had not been granted the same luxury. So now, while he slept on, she let her eyes feast upon him. His barrel chest rose and fell with each breath. Polgara noticed a slight red mark that she had left just beside his nipple. A strange swell of gratification bubbled in her belly at the sight. His thick neck had a vein that twitched every so often. How curious. His smooth face was a bit rough with the growth of his facial hair during the night, and Polgara wondered at the sensation of it beneath her lips and pressed to her cheeks. His own lips were parted while he breathed softly in sleep. She could almost hear barely-audible snores through his nose. Polgara moved her gaze down his body, still marveling at his image of brute strength covered in soft care. And there, below his nicely fed belly, lay his manhood against his thigh. She hadn't had the opportunity to really see it before. The feel of him hot and hard in her hand was something she would never forget, but truly seeing the sheer size of him, even soft as he was in sleep, was quite a sight. A shiver of arousal passed through her as she continued to gaze upon him.

The more she watched him, the more her body began to tingle with the need to touch and be touch. And though her muscles were sore from their passionate night, the ache between her thighs could not be denied.

Polgara had never been one to sit idle too long, to watch and wait and not do. She crawled over him and straddled her legs over the tops of his thighs. Durnik moaned slightly, but did not fully awaken. She trailed her fingertips up his stomach to his chest and back down. A glance down at his lap let her know that her efforts were working; he was starting to grow hard. Her hands danced over him softly, teasing him awake. Her thumbs brushed his nipples and then over to the sensitive skin just under his arms, mapping his ribcage.

Durnik sighed and smiled, enjoying her ministrations as his mind and body began to awaken. He kept his eyes closed, focusing on her touch. She shifted and leaned to rest her upper body on his. He could feel her breasts pillowed on the hard plane of his chest. Her fingers moved up to massage his earlobes, a sensation that he found shockingly erotic. Durnik had to touch her now. His hands found her thick thighs. His palms traveled up them and over her hips to her slim waist. At last he opened his eyes and met her loving gaze.

She smiled to see him awaken for her. "Good morning, my Durnik," she murmured, pressing a light kiss to his lips. "My husband." Another kiss. "My love." This kiss was deeper. Lips parted and invited tongues. Polgara's hands tangled in his hair and his own traveled down to her bum, squeezing and massaging her ample flesh. They moaned into each other's mouth as they kissed each other breathless.

Polgara eased out of the kiss and pulled herself upright again. Seeing her naked and straddling him was almost more than he could take. His erection had been trapped between their bodies when she lay atop him, but now it sprung free, hard and proud. "This is a very nice way to wake up," he said. Without being able to stop himself, Durnik reached up her body to grasp her breasts in his hands.

A moan of appreciation escaped her. "I believe this is an important part of my wifely duty," she explained.

"I did not think marriage was quite so generous," he teased lightly.

She grinned down at him. "Our marriage can be whatever we want it to be. And I want you." To illustrate her point, Polgara gripped his hardness and began to stroke him.

Durnik groaned with intense arousal. "You want me?" he gasped, still in slight disbelief that Polgara could wake in the morning and want him.

"Yes," she replied. She took one of his hands off her breast and moved it between her legs. "Feel. Feel how much I want you," she murmured.

She was practically dripping for him. The eroticism of her wetness on his fingers as she guided his hand over her made Durnik jerk his hips, thrusting himself up into her hand. "Oh, my Pol," he groaned.

Polgara shifted her body. She moved his hand away so she could line him up with her entrance. And with a suddenness that shocked them both, she sank down onto him. Once again, the feeling of being filled so fully and stretched so perfectly was nearly enough to make her come on the spot. She was panting already, could feel him twitch inside her body. Durnik's hands gripped her hips, painting her with her own wetness. Polgara braced herself on his chest and began to move on him. She started out slowly but soon quickened her pace, riding him hard.

The wet slap of their bodies together mixed with Polgara's breathy moans and Durnik's groans of "Yes, Pol, yes!" Their coupling was fast and a bit messy. Durnik thrust up into her, meeting each of her downward movements with rough power that rocked her to her core. He let out a roar as he spilled inside her. The hot rush inside her body pulled Polgara over the edge, her body pulsating with her release as she fell on top of her husband with gasping breaths.

Durnik held her tight in his arms, wanting her to stay right where she was as long as possible. Polgara did not protest. "I think," he said, still trying to catch his breath, "that we are doing very well with marriage so far."

She laughed, "Yes, we're quite good at this part."

"And this is only the beginning," he replied with an air of awe.

Polgara moved slightly so she could press a kiss to his lips. "Yes. This is our beginning."


End file.
